


All This Devotion

by dancetildawnmon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancetildawnmon/pseuds/dancetildawnmon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel knocks on the bunker’s door, it is Dean who answers, wrapped in his too-big grey bathrobe and a cup of coffee. Castiel looks shaken, tired, dirty, but alive, and this is what compels Dean to envelop him in a hug, no words, nothing, everything caught in his throat, his trachea, his lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This Devotion

When Castiel knocks on the bunker’s door, it is Dean who answers, wrapped in his too-big grey bathrobe and a cup of coffee. Castiel looks shaken, tired, dirty, but alive, and this is what compels Dean to envelop him in a hug, no words, nothing, everything caught in his throat, his trachea, his lungs. 

-

Sam asks many questions about how Cas made his way alone. Castiel tells him about the train, the unfortunate three-hour bus ride beside a chatty Seventh Day Adventist, eating cereal, and a red-haired woman who took him in one cold night. When he mentions that he fornicated with her, Dean stiffens, and walks out of the room. Cas frowns, asks Sam if something is the matter. Sam looks towards Dean’s door, sighs, and says “Let’s get your room sorted out.”

-

Cas’ room is actually already sorted out when he gets to it. There are towels and a change of clothes: a pair of Dean’s oldest jeans and a grey Henley. There is a new toothbrush, a bar of soap, minty shampoo. His stomach rumbles, but he settles for a shower, first. 

-

Castiel burns himself on the first try. The water is scalding hot and he screams, the flesh on his chest an angry smeared red, a frown on pale skin, and Dean runs into the bathroom, eyes wide and shocked and “Fuck, you should have told me before you stepped in.” Castiel notices that Dean only belatedly realises that he is complretely in the nude, but Dean still teaches Cas how to make a feel for it, just twist the knob this much to make the water lukewarm.  
Cas decides he is not a big fan of water heaters. 

-

The microwave frustrates him, so he eats his Pop Tart at room temperature. Kevin finds it amusing, and tries to help, but Cas presses too many buttons too many times, and he huffs in consternation. Sam tells Kevin to stop making fun of Cas, and Dean overhears the exchange. He goes over to the microwave, tells Cas “Once, press this once, it’s for a minute, just a minute. If you want stuff to heat longer, press this button more than once, but it’s a fuckin’ Pop Tart, Cas, this microwave is pretty much idiot-proof. Don’t get mad at it.” He laughs, his crows feet crinkling in the yellow light, and Castiel decides he has never seen anything more beautiful. 

-

He offers to do the laundry, and tells them that he has already done his own. Once. In a coin laundry shop. Sam praises him, until Castiel realizes that the machine in the Men of Letters bunker is not the same. It has one too many knobs, but he bites the tip of his tongue, prods a few of the buttons, and within ten minutes, he has the machine tumbling last week’s laundry. 

\- 

All of Dean, Sam, and Kevin’s white shirts are now pink, and two sizes too small. Castiel is devastated, but they all clap him on the shoulder and tell him it’s okay. “Real men wear pink,” Dean says gruffly. Sam rolls his eyes because he knows he’s only saying that for Cas’ sake, but he appreciates his brother’s gesture. Castiel does, too. 

-

The lake in the back of the bunker proves to be Castiel’s biggest adversary. Charlie drives out to meet them for the weekend, no case or anything. For once, there is time to unwind. They steal moments like these and hold them close, drink them in like dying men and women. Sam, Dean, Kevin and Charlie jump off the deck and Castiel remains on the wooden edge, on edge, too scared to fall in and never stop falling. He confesses that he knows the feeling all too well, and does not wish to relive it. 

Charlie coaxes him to jump, with promises that they will keep him afloat. 

Castiel falls in, his chest hitting the water, slapping like a plane of glass, and it knocks all breath out of him. He slips under the surface, and they wait. Wait for him to break through and gasp for air.

Castiel struggles, falls, and he panics, taking too-large gulps of air that does not exist beneath the surface. Water fills the cathedral of his mouth. His chest rises and falls but there is nothing, nothing, nothing, he is drowning, he is going to die here, of all the things that he has weathered, his death will come not at the hand of God or Lucifer or a Horseman but water, he is going to— he is going to— a hand grabs hold of his hand and he is reminded of the moment he first saw the shining light after braving the seven circles of Hell for Dean. 

The first thing he does is gasp for air, and there are hands, hands everywhere, hands on his arms and his biceps and his chest and he is breathing. He is alive. The afternoon sun is blinding. Dean’s soul is blinding. He confuses the lake for hell but when he opens his eyes too wide, pupils constricting, his human heart breaking apart his ribcage, he sees Dean, who smiles, says “I got you, I got you, relax Cas, you’re okay.”

His breathing normalises. His heart rate crawls to acceptable levels. Sam and Kevin breathe sighs of relief, nervous laughter ripped from their insides. Charlie intones, laughs, says “Guess this time Dean was the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, eh Cas?” 

Castiel sees Dean colour at this, and he cannot help but smile at this tiny version of his own sacrifice. For the first time since falling, he is grateful for this humanity. He is grateful. He is home.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for prufrocking, for her birthday. Title is from Never Let Me Go, by Florence and the Machine.


End file.
